


Bitter Intuition

by ellipsometry



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Time Skip, Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsometry/pseuds/ellipsometry
Summary: Dimitri should know well enough to be suspicious when Sylvain says, “Actually, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the library lately.  You should join, Your Highness.”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 489





	Bitter Intuition

**Author's Note:**

> semi-established sylvix w/ voyeur dimi!!! (eye emoji) there are Feelings abound  
> u can find me on twit [@ellipsometry_](http://www.twitter.com/ellipsometry_)

Dimitri should know well enough to be suspicious when Sylvain says, “Actually, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the library lately. You should join, Your Highness.”

But he’s just too pleased to hear that his friend is taking his advice to heart. “That’s great, Sylvain! Perhaps I will.” is what he says, and the matter is dropped as quickly as it is brought up.

Except – Dimitri can’t sleep. Not that it has ever come to him easily, but now it seems to come not at all. Particularly after last month’s _incident_ in the Holy Mausoleum. Not after—

At moments like this, he feels drawn to the library, the high ceilings and rows and rows of dusty, undisturbed books holding the promise of quiet. He thinks of Sylvain, finally studying dutifully among them, even with graduation so close, and stifles a laugh. Perhaps he will be there. Sylvain may be far from _quiet_ , but he does have a knack for calming Dimitri’s mind, if only because the prince can momentarily focus on Sylvain’s problems rather than his own.

It’s well past midnight when Dimitri ventures from his room, pacing the halls before making it to the library. It’s ordinarily closed this late, save for when Linhardt convinces the nuns to allow him to stay late for his research. But no matter; Dimitri has a key – all the house leaders do.

But the door is already unlocked. Dimitri steps inside quietly, politely. And even before he hears it – _a moan, low and heady and perhaps someone is in pain, but no, that can't be right –_ even before he sees it – _a flash of familiar red hair, a sliver of pale skin, the rumpled black fabric of a discarded uniform_ – even before all that, Dimitri knows something is wrong. He slinks against a bookcase, half-hidden in shadow, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Sylvain…"

The voice is sticky sweet like honey. _Felix's_ voice. And as Dimitri steps around the corner, fingers gripping the edge of the bookcase so hard it splinters, he finally sees him, sprawled out on one of the tables, Sylvain’s body curved over him, head dipped low.

“ _Now_ you behave,” Sylvain’s voice is too casual, like he’s teasing Felix as always, rather than kissing a trail up the back of his exposed neck. “Just a minute ago you were—”

“Shut up!” Felix snaps, but his voice has lost all venom; it comes out airy, breathless.

“Fine, fine,” Sylvain leans back, and Dimitri can see all of Felix now. He’s bent in half over the table, pants discarded somewhere unseen, shirt rucked up just past the slope of his waist and – was his waist always so slender, the curve of it so delicate? If Dimitri reached his two hands around it could he—

“Gh—Fuck, Syl, stop teasing.” There’s a thud as Felix hits his forehead against the table in frustration, and Dimitri has to tear his eyes away from the mess that Felix already is – hair undone, falling across his shoulders, half-obscuring his face – back to Sylvain, whose lips settle into a satisfied curl.

Dimitri’s hands clap to his mouth to hold in the deep, needy whine he almost lets out at the sight of Sylvain running his hands down Felix’s hips, cupping his ass with both palms. He squeezes, flesh spilling between the gaps of his fingers, and then uses his thumbs to pry open Felix’s ass, exposing where his cock is buried, deep in Felix’s swollen hole.

Knees weak, Dimitri steadies himself, blood rushing to his own crotch, a hard line straining against the seam of his pants. He should leave. He _must_ leave, immediately. He’s so close, just a few feet away; close enough that he could take two strides and be there at Felix’s side, could run his fingers through his hair, up his cheek, slip fingers into his mouth—

“ _Goddess, fuck—_ I n-n— I can’t—” Felix keens, a bit too loud, and it echoes through the room, in Dimitri’s head, and _Gods_ that sound will stick with him, will haunt his dreams for nights foreseeable. 

“You’re gonna get us caught!” Sylvain laughs, but his hips continue their steady grind. He’s clearly hitting some sweet spot inside Felix, because each slow, deep twitch of his hips earns him a new, increasingly desperate sound from Felix’s wet mouth, a steady _ah! ah! ah!_ that’s almost musical.

 _Leave, leave, leave,_ Dimitri’s conscious tells him. He’s far too conspicuous in his nightclothes, a sliver of blue, a shard of ice against the grey shadows. A ghost, by any other name, seeing something he is certainly _not_ meant to see.

Unless – and Dimitri’s face burns burgundy at the thought – perhaps Sylvain was goading him, teasing him with his mention of _spending a lot of time in the library._ It would be lunacy to try and catch Sylvain’s eye under this circumstance, to try and glean some bit of understanding, some comfort as Dimitri finds his feet cemented to the ground. He’s unable to move, to breathe, to do anything but drink in the open-mouthed desperation on Felix’s face, the delicious curve of his back, the tendrils of dark hair that stick to the pale skin of his neck.

“Maybe you _want_ to get caught,” Sylvain says, voice lowering an octave, dangerous as he picks up the pace, curving his body over Felix’s. “By who, huh? Do you even care?”

“S— _uh, shit,_ it’s not—” Felix can’t string words together, too cock-drunk, too lost in the feeling crawling up his spine. Dimitri wonders how it feels, how _he_ would feel inside Felix – or with Sylvain inside of him – and exhales slow.

Sylvain grins, and finally – _finally_ – looks up, catching Dimitri’s eyes, a glint of red flashing in that familiar amber. “Oh, Your Highness! What are you—”

Dimitri gasps, loud enough that he would certainly be heard – if not for Felix’s equally loud shout, a startled _Slyvain!_ as he scrambles at the wood grain of the table, pushing himself up to whip his head around, searching the room. Dimitri quickly sinks back further into the shadows.

“D-Don’t do that!” Felix’s chest is heaving, eyes still darting around the room looking for any glint of yellow hair. “You fucking bastard!”

“Aw, but you got so _tight_ ,” Sylvain purrs, running a hand up Felix’s back, cupping his neck with one large palm, pinning his face against the table. “You were fucking milking my cock as soon as you thought Dimitri was here— oh, there, you did it again.”

Sylvain’s cleverly turned Felix’s face away from where Dimitri is hiding, and so the prince tentatively inches forward again, fingers gripping the edge of the now-ruined bookcase, splinters sinking into his fingers. Felix is trembling so hard that the entire desk is shaking, helped along by the steady thrusts of Sylvain’s hips. Sylvain is dripping sweat, and Dimitri watches it drip down his neck, disappearing under his collar. His voice betrays none of it, but he must be feeling as debauched as Felix looks, legs shaking, fingers gripping the back of Felix’s neck tight enough to hurt, just for the leverage.

“Syl— _ah! Fuck!_ ” Felix tries to reach his arms back, to push Sylvain away, or pull him closer, something, _anything_ that will scratch the itch inside him. “I want, _ghh, mmm_ — more, please, more.”

The smile that stretches across Sylvain’s face is a slice of white against the dark of the near-empty library. Dimitri’s breath catches in his throat. “Baby, you know I’d give it to you even if you didn’t ask.”

Dimitri can hear the tears in Felix’s voice as he wails at each thrust, the echo of something familiar and altogether new. Here are the parts of Felix yet unseen to him: laid out, debauched, _needy_ in a way that has fire crawling up Dimitri’s throat.

“I want it, I want it,” Felix sounds pathetic, breathless, weak – all the things he loathes, all the things he would loathe for Dimitri to witness. And yet, still like himself: demanding, sharp, straightforward. Dimitri loses a small piece of sanity and reaches down to stroke at himself over his clothes, slowly, teasing himself, feeling the head of his cock start to drip.

“Want what, baby?” Sylvain’s voice has a rough edge; there’s a right answer to this question.

But Felix is quiet now, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Dimitri leans forward, breathless, waiting for an answer.

“You want me?” Sylvain asks, faux-innocent. “You have me, but… maybe I’m not enough. Maybe you need another cock to be satisfied.” Dimitri’s breath hitches in his throat at Sylvain’s words, but Felix remains silent, shaking at the effort.

Dimitri finds himself in the same situation, biting at his lip hard enough to bleed, to keep himself quiet as Sylvain asks, “How about Dimitri?”

That, though, shakes Felix out of his silence, and he curses, fingers curling uselessly against the hard table’s surface. “Syl— I can’t—”

“He’s too strong, I bet he’d break you,” Sylvain muses, fingers dancing dangerously across Felix’s neck. He slips a thumb into Felix’s mouth, and Felix accepts it obediently, letting it rest against his tongue, spit dripping down his chin. “You’d probably like it, though.”

“Stop, s— don’t talk about Dimitri,” Felix half-sobs around Sylvain’s fingers, and just the weight of his name dripping from Felix’s spit-slicked lips nearly has Dimitri coming in his pants. He doubles over, bracing himself against his knees. _Dimitri_ , his mind echoes, and in his imagination, Felix is whispering it softly, teasing him with it, screaming his name, sobbing into Dimitri’s bedsheets. _Dimitri, Dimitri, Dimitri._

But it’s not Dimitri’s name he’s chanting now. Even so, Dimitri finds no avarice in his heart, only an _ache_ , watching Sylvain take Felix so roughly, manhandle him, grip his hair in his fist, pulling on it harshly. The depravity of watching them in such an intimate moment.

“Sylvain, _Sylvain, fuck—!”_ Felix gasps, hips bucking as his orgasm hits him, sudden and violent. Come splashes against his stomach, against the edge of the table, dripping down to the tile below. An unhinged part of Dimitri’s brain tells him to crawl on the floor, to lick up Felix’s come like an animal, hungry and desperate.

“You— shit, you feel so, _fuck,_ so fucking good,” Sylvain’s voice inches up an octave, hips rutting haphazardly as he inches closer. Felix has gone limp beneath him, body shuddering as Sylvain uses him, chases his pleasure, finally thrusting harshly in and holding himself deep as he empties inside Felix.

It’s Dimitri, after all, left behind – left hard and wanting and needy. He wants to run; whether toward them or out of the room he’s not quite sure yet.

There’s a wet, squelching sound as Sylvain pulls out gently, and Dimitri can’t quite see Felix’s hole from here. But he can imagine it, red and swollen, rim stretched and leaking white come, completely claimed.

Sylvain sighs, helping Felix to his feet. “You okay?”

“Mn. Yes.” Felix mumbles, eyes lidded, still looking half-fucked out of his mind. He reaches down to run a finger across his sensitive rim, grimacing. “Gross.”

“I bet I can sneak us into the sauna,” Sylvain says, dropping a kiss to Felix’s forehead – and that, more than anything else, has Dimitri’s heart leaping into his throat. He wants to be the one kissing Felix’s forehead, comforting him, holding him. He wants to be the one on the receiving end of that brilliant smile Sylvain gives, unguarded and true. He wants to take those two strides over, out of the shadows. He wants what he can’t have. He _wants_.

Miracle of miracles, Dimitri manages to leave without succumbing to his baser instincts. Stumbling for the library door, fumbling with the creaky doorknob, pants tenting uncomfortably, he makes it out alive, if not extremely compromised.

There’s no telling how long he’ll have before Felix and Sylvain return to their rooms. Even so, Dimitri needs almost no time at all to finish as soon as he makes it to his room, turning the lock with trembling fingers. He pulls his pants off so harshly he can hear them rip, tugs at his reddened cock once, twice – and comes with a cut-off shout, painting his stomach in white.

And then, for the first time in a long time, sleep takes him.

+

“Your act was really good, by the way.”

Felix frowns as Sylvain turns up the steam in the sauna. Neither of them are great with the heat, but it is nice after a good fuck, he supposes. “What act?”

“ _Oh no, Sylvain, don’t talk about DImitri!_ ” Sylvain does his best Felix impression. Regrettably, it is quite good. “I’m sure he’s tugging his dick thinking about it as we speak.”

“Disgusting. I couldn’t care less what the boar does.” Felix goes red and busies himself running fingers through his hair, untangling it. Sylvain watches and wishes it could be quite so easy to untangle Felix’s conflicted feelings about Dimitri – hell his _own_ complicated feelings.

“No lying, Fe,” Sylvain whines, and it’s way too damn _hot_ in here to get so close, to press up against Felix’s sweaty torso, slipping a hand up his chest to thumb over a nipple. “You like when I show you off.”

Felix shivers despite the heat. “I’m tired,” he mumbles, but still sinks into Sylvain’s touch, legs spreading instinctively. “I’ll suck you off if you leave me alone.”

“So romantic,” Sylvain laughs. But Felix is already dropping to his knees, and the look on his face – sultry, flushed, mouth half-open and already salivating – is so different than his knife-tipped words that Sylvain’s head is reeling from more than just the steam. Here’s the parts of Felix, unvarnished and private, that only Sylvain knows about.

Well – add Dimitri to that list, he supposes.

Feelings are difficult. Sex is easy. Hasn’t that always been the way Sylvain’s gotten by? How he’s always survived? He thinks of Dimitri, coiled up and tense like an animal approached in the wild; ice blue eyes blow wide in the dark of the library, watching him and Felix put on a private show. Maybe a tryst would do him some good. Maybe he’s already too far gone. Sylvain wants to find out – and, somehow, he knows Felix wants to too.

He’ll really have to set up another study date soon.


End file.
